


Confession

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-22
Updated: 1999-08-22
Packaged: 2018-11-10 08:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11123106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Somebody loves Ben.





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).
    
    
    It takes a lot for me to admit this.  It's not as if it's something that
    the world accepts easily.  
    
    I love Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
    
    Sure, it's easy to take that news about some guys.  I mean, hey, one
    good look at some of those flakes, and you just know it.  They might
    as well be wearing signs to begin with, so it's not hard when you find
    out they're slavering all over some guy.  Letting themselves be lead
    around, obeying every command just because they've bought into some gooey
    love thing.  
    
    Not me.  Nah, I'm a real animal.  Wild, free, untamed.  When people look
    at me, I know they fear me.  I'm just that kind of guy.  The kind that
    likes his steak extra-rare and his nights wild, but knows how to really
    romance a lover.  I freely admit that is my forte.  I've romanced a good
    portion of Chicago's available female pool, and I'm not ashamed of it,
    even if it has landed me in trouble a couple of times.  Once in particular,
    but that's not something I'd like to remember. 
    
    I'm not at all like Fraser.  He's Mr. Cool, Mr. Evenheaded.  Mr. Just-This-Side-Of-A-Monk.
    If it wasn't for Victoria, as cruel as she was, I would probably wonder
    if he even knew how to go about things with a woman. After that, it became
    clearer.  He's fallen hard for his boss, even though she treats him like
    disposable office equipment.  I saw him start to go for that bounty hunter
    with the three children of the apocalypse (thank God that fell through).
    I even thought he was beginning to have feelings for that poker player,
    Ladyshoes, but it was all part of the game they were playing.  I admit
    that was a surprise.  Fraser had never been one for games.  
    
    He's always so logical, so practical, the kind of guy who would never
    think of sleeping in or staying up late to just howl at the moon.  I
    operate on instinct, usually just following my nose and my gut feelings
    from one clue to another.  If something bothers me, it isn't too hard
    to figure out.   Fraser says I whine, and I've got to agree, sometimes
    I do.  But hey, it gets results, and there is no law written that you
    can't be a little annoy-er, *persuasive* if you want something.  
    
    I'm up front, I always let people know exactly what I feel.  Not like
    Fraser.  The only way you'd know something was bothering him was if you
    counted limbs and came up with an answer of three or less.  Even then,
    he'd probably tell you that he was all right.  'Oh, yes, it's perfectly
    normal to be minus an arm.  Oh no, don't let me be a problem.  I can
    handle it.'  Anything less drastic than that, though, and it's a guessing
    game.  The man berates me for my emotional displays, but hell, I'm not
    going to be the one with the ulcer in another year or two from suppressing
    everything.    
    
    As different as we are, I sometimes wonder how I can love him.  Maybe
    it was the first time I saved his life.  Or the first time he saved mine.
    I've put my life on the line for him, but I know he'd do the same for
    me in a heartbeat.  He tolerates my quirks, and I his.  We both know
    that no matter where we go or what happens around us, the other will
    always be there.  
    
    Sometimes, I know he thinks I'm ungrateful, but I am grateful.  I'm very
    grateful.  I'm just not sure how to show it.  There are nights when I
    just want to go over and into his bed, pillow my head against his warm
    body and simply lay there, listening to him breathe until I drifted off
    to sleep.  I could never do that, though.  Who knows what he would do
    if I violated protocol so drastically? 
    
    I don't know who wrote the rules, but they're clear enough.  That's just
    not something guys do.    
    
    So I'll just sit here, watching him sleep.  He's not much more than a
    lump in the blankets, the moon shining through the window and lighting
    his face.  I'm always amazed at how little that face has changed in the
    years I've been with him.  I suppose he's just one of those people who
    is destined to look young forever.  As I watch him sleep, he whimpers
    and shivers, his smooth brow creasing as he pulls the blankets in tightly
    around him.  He's having a bad dream.  
    
    To hell with protocol.  Carefully, trying not to rock the bed, I hop
    up beside him, nudging his arm with my nose until he lets go where he
    was clutching the pillow.  Satisfied, I slip in and lay down, my head
    resting on his outstretched arm, my furry side molding to his large form.
    He sighs in his sleep, and I see the lines of worry fading from his expression,
    replaced by a contented smile.  "Dief...", he murmurs.  
    
    It's everything I can do not to wag my entire rear end and lick him for
    that.  It's just the way he said it.  The tip of my tail twitches back
    and forth, unable to entirely contain my happiness.  
    
    He loves me too.
    
    THE END  (So, were you surprised by the identity of Fraser's admirer?)
    
    


End file.
